


Twelve Nights

by Measured



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike accepted that his career path had taken a swan dive into the toilet. He accepted it with the wisdom and grace of a modern day philosopher who needed to drink a whole lot more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelve Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonderminterplus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderminterplus/gifts).



On the eighth night, Mike came in to a severed human hand in a bag left on his desk, like overgrown, murderous cats, they had gotten used to him.

Mike accepted that his career path had taken a swan dive into the toilet. He accepted it with the wisdom and grace of a modern day philosopher who needed to drink a whole lot more.

Chica stood at his window with wings to the window. Mike flicked the button to close the door. That next morning, he'd find little drawings left on his door in blood.

*

On the ninth night, there was a whoopie cushion waiting for Mike. Of all the things he'd come to expect and look for in his job, this hadn't been one of them. He sat back at the child's prank and shook his head. He heard a wind-up chime which almost sounded like laughter.

*

On the tenth night there were little drawings in blood on the inside of the door. A sun in the corner, a tree and a house of a bear, a fox, a chick and a bunny. The bunny was hand in hand with the man in the cap.

There were little hearts carved into the walls, thick like a gash of claw and teeth all around his chair.

With no other guards to meter his progress, Mike didn't bother cleaning them up. 

*

On the eleventh day, Mike settled into his life. His crappy apartment, his crappy job, and the new gashes of all kinds of new drawings all around his office. A new broken fan, like a makeshift gift which got lost along the way. Ripped out coloring paper drawings scribbled and attached to the desk, little stolen toys and noisemakers shoved into the coat he forgot at work in his haste to return home.

On the twelfth night, he brought his own damn generator and kept the doors closed all night long. He brought his own radio, his own mixtape, and his own six pack. The animatronics were very active that night, banging on his doors all night long, almost like they were dancing along.


End file.
